The Once Upon A Time Affair: A pair of big shoes
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya accompany Mister Waverly to London Headquarters for a serious situation.


**The Prompt –**

{Your Choice} had waited many years for this day to come and, finally, {he/she} would get the recompense {he/she} had craved for so long.

The Theme- Revenge

.

He had waited many years for this day to come and, finally, he would get the recompense he had craved for so long.

Pacing back and forth; his nerves were on edge while he waited to leave. Revenge would he his at last, he was sure of it. Though not a vengeful man, this time just for once he was going to get even. It had started a long ago, so long that he could barely remember when, and continued off and on over the years but now it would finally be at an end.

Everyone in headquarters who came in contact with him could see that he was preoccupied and on edge. He was prowling the corridors like a caged animal, but no one dare ask him what was wrong; they knew they'd have their head bitten off for sure.

His seemingly out of character behavior had nothing to do with an assignment, no it was personal. It was something from his past that had him agitated.

Through the years the person with whom he had his concerns lauded his victories like the pompous man that he was, well that was a rather improper thing to call him. He actually was a very nice chap, though over the years he did say some of the most inappropriate things.

Still whenever he lost, he'd brush it off as if it were nothing, and refused acknowledge his opponent's success. This went on and on until it could just no longer be tolerated.

It was time for Alexander Waverly to get even.

His final challenge was issued and it would be winner take all and nothing less. That was his ultimatum.

Finally it would make an end of this endless game of cat and mouse.

The time and date were agreed upon and set; immediately Alexander Waverly winged his way to UNCLE headquarters in London. Accompanying him were his best agents, Solo and Kuryakin.

Those two kept to themselves, saying little as the Old Man was simply not himself. They'd seen him calm and cool or merely agitated in the most adverse of situations, but never like this.

This was a concern of a personal nature and it was best to leave Mr. Waverly alone with his thoughts.

He did at one point during their journey, pull Napoleon aside leaving Illya to fend for himself on the plane...which was not a problem. Kuryakin had brought along a worn, dog-eared copy of 'War and Peace." He was reading it while contentedly drinking a cup of tea and munching on scones in the rear of the private UNCLE jet.

Napoleon being known for his skills regarding strategy discussed at length with Waverly a number of possibilities, many of which the Old Man was already familiar.

Solo thought the discussion merely served to calm Waverly's nerves, and after a good cup of Earl Grey tea he seemed to be more relaxed.

Napoleon finally returned to his seat by his partner; Illya set down his book, and removed his glasses.

"Do you think he is ready for this?" The Russian asked.

"Oh yeah. He may come across a bit edgy, but I swear the man has nerves of steel. I only hope one day, when I'm his age, that I'll be half as strong as him."

"Napoleon, he chose you to be his replacement for a number of reasons, and I am sure strength is just one of them as well as confidence, among other things. Still you will have a rather large pair of shoes to fill, but I will be here to help you grow accustomed to them when the time comes. I suspect you will have plenty of more time to prepare for the role."

"Thanks tovarisch, I appreciate that. I have to say though, seeing him like this is a bit…" For a moment he struggled to find the right word.

"Unsettling?" Illya finished the sentence for him.

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

They landed at Gatwick Airport, and there a black Mercedes with an escort car awaited them.

Solo and Kuryakin of course, remained in the car with Waverly, acting as bodyguards as they travelled to the location that served as to headquarters in London.

It was a nondescript used books seller on Tavistock Street in the Covent Gardens section of Westminster. The simple three story brick building housed one of the busiest U.N.C.L.E. locations in the European arena, ranking second only to the Berlin headquarters in West Germany.

As they entered the shop, Solo leading the way nodded to the clerk behind the sales counter as he passed through the curtained doorway leading to a private reading room; the walls of it lined with shelving full off books on obscure subjects.

Once Waverly followed with Kuryakin, Illya reached for a not so unusual book entitled 'Alice in Wonderland;' he half-smiled to himself thinking that was apropos.

Pulling the book, tilting it forward; the entire bookcase pivoted open to reveal the hidden world that existed behind it.

Solo walked into the reception area, being greeted immediately by a pretty redhead seated behind the security desk who was dressed in the standard blue blouse and black skirt worn by the female support staff.

"Welcome back Napoleon," she smiled, speaking with an accent that rang a bell to him. "Don't tell me...Crook, County Durham?"

"Very good and… " she smiled at him, waiting.

He was embarrassed as he couldn't for the life of him remember her name, but that didn't really matter. He flashed his charming smile and was about to whisper to her about a possible date.

"Enough of your flirtations Mr. Solo," Waverly snapped at him. "Young lady, our badges if you please?"

"Yes sir Mister Waverly." She immediately handed his badge to him as well as Solo.

Illya leaned forward, accepting his badge from her but whispered to the woman.

"Hello Dawn, good to see you again. Dinner later if I am free?"

"Oh yes, at the Star Tavern on Belgrave Mews?"

"I think a less work related place might be better. We will talk later."

The Star Tavern was a popular place, attracting both saints and sinners; it was surrounded by cottages that were once stables belonging to the nearby houses whose staff and servants the pub served.

The exterior of the building with its stained glass star windows was very picturesque. Most people didn't know the quaint establishment was a favored spot of both criminal and spy alike, yet it was considered neutral territory by all.

The last time Kuryakin had been there, he ran into a certain agent from British intelligence... named Bond.

Illya had no desire to be around anyone in the espionage business while entertaining a young lady, even though she too worked for UNCLE.

"Mister Kuryakin, enough of your whisperings with the young lady. I would think you would know better than Mister Solo."

'Yes sir, sorry." Illya winked to Dawn. He tried not to laugh at the look on his partner's face after it was he and not Solo who had secured a date with Dawn.

Once reaching the office of Harry Beldon, and the brief pleasantries began, if you could call them pleasantries.

Harry offered Waverly a brandy and after the Old Man declined, Beldon poured himself a snifter.

"I see your bourgeois taste in decor has not changed," Illya said, refusing a drink as well.

He looked about the room at the same oversized palms and ferns, interspersed with yet more Grecian statuary of naked women, gazing out with cold lifeless eyes...he wondered if the statues might convert to weapons with the flick of a switch on Harry's console. He found it an amusing thought that gun barrels might suddenly appear from the statue's carved breasts. Still that vision made him shiver just a bit, as it was something that Harry could conceivably do.

"You still have not updated your interior designs...I still say my suggestion of minimalism can often bring tranquility and Zen influence to the mind."

"And I see your Soviet snobbishness hasn't change either my dear Illya."

Napoleon too refused a brandy and stood quietly beside his partner, listening with amusement at Illya and Harry's banter.

It was put to a stop by Waverly; Solo and Kuryakin stood in silence behind him with their hands clasped in front of themselves.

"Security?" Waverly asked.

"All is in readiness Alexander, but I must say this is rather disruptive to the running of my headquarters. Couldn't you have made other arrangements?"

Waverly harrumphed his annoyance. "As senior officer of the Continental Chiefs as well as one of the founders of our organization...rank hath its privileges Harry." There was a twinkle in his eyes.

Illya covered his mouth, faking a cough as he smiled. He rather enjoyed Harry being told to get over it.

"Not to worry," Waverly finally said." This should be the last time that you and your people will be inconvenienced."

"The last?" Harry asked.

"Yes as in final, no more finished, kaput."

"Interesting,"Beldon smiled. "Rest assured security is in place. Everyone will be on their toes."

"As they should be, regardless,"Waverly snapped. "The corridors will be cleared when he arrives?"

"Alexander if I didn't know better, I'd say you were nervous.?" Harry finished his brandy.

"Nonsense!

'Well then let me wish the best of British to you Alexander," Harry said as he escorted them to the door.

Waverly nodded his thanks. He wouldn't admit it, but Harry Beldon was a true annoyance to him. There was something about the man he just didn't trust. That was neither here nor there at the moment, he had to concentrate on what was to come."

To Napoleon, Beldon oozed with all the sincerity of a snake oil salesman. He could sense Illya's discomfort being around the man; something had happened between the two, at least that's what he suspected.

Illya was never forthcoming about it, and until he was ready to talk, Napoleon wouldn't push the issue. He recalled the disdain in Illya's voice when describing Harry's decadent lifestyle, as well as other habits. True, his partner preferred to live a rather spartan lifestyle, but he was spot on about Harry and his habits.

Every time he dealt with Beldon, Napoleon could see more and more past the facade, and what he saw he didn't care for at all. Like Illya, he didn't trust the man.

Still there was nothing to indicate a lack of loyalty to the Command; Beldon had his own way of doing things and as Illya had said, his own personal agenda. Still he took care of his people..a bit more lavishly than other Continental Chiefs, but then that was part of the aura that surrounded Harry Beldon; things just had to be over the top.

Alexander Waverly having finished his business with Harry, sojourned to one of the conference rooms in headquarters. There he awaited the arrival of his visitor, his adversary as it were. That was the only word that seemed fit in this situation.

The man was precisely on time and was escorted through the now empty halls of the headquarters of U.N.C.L.E. It was an exception to the rule but for security's sake but given who the man was, Harry Beldon permitted it, especially since it was at Waverly's request.

He was accompanied by a full security detail to their meeting place and the pneumatic doors to the conference room silently opened. Two agents from MI6 preceded the man for whom Waverly was waiting. Once he entered the room protocol was followed and the two men nodded their acknowledgments to each other before they sat down.

Kuryakin, Solo as well as agents from MI6 remained in the room.

Waverly and his visitor remained motionless, staring at each other from across the end of the rather long oak table, both of them thinking, studying the other.

They knew each other well enough, but still this would be their final engagement; it was no holds barred and the gloves were off for a bare knuckles battle, as it were.

Finally the first move was made, a strategic but standard opening gambit; it was quickly followed by another move and another. The two men were lightning quick in as they moved back and forth.

Finally the man from U.N.C.L.E. made a rather unique play, startling his opponent.

"That I believe is checkmate, old boy," Alexander Waverly nodded before picking up his pipe. He couldn't help but smile.

"Why you sly old fox. I suppose we're done then Alexander? I shall miss our games, really." He looked quite forlorn.

As usual there was no congratulations to Waverly, there never were.

The Old Man suddenly felt a bit down as well, and changing his mind he spoke,"Oh all right then, in six month's time. Sandringham perhaps for a change?"

"You know I prefer coming here. It's good to get out on my own."

Waverly chewed on the mouthpiece of his unlit pipe. He'd capitulated.. .again. For a master tactician, he'd been out maneuvered by a mere look, and it wasn't the first time it had happened, but then of course how could he refuse the man if he wished to continue to do battle?"

"Ha! I got you then old bean, wot?" The man laughed.

"Until next time your Royal Highness. Off on any travels in the near future?"

"No place that I'm really interested in going. Most of my destinations are quite ghastly. I do admit, I would like to go to Russia very much, although the bastards murdered half my family."

Waverly didn't know what to say to that remark, and merely shook hands with him, reverently bowing his head as he did so.

"Well played," Napoleon stepped up to his boss once the visitor left with his security detail.

These matches took place only periodically when Waverly was in London as the Royal had to be secreted into UNCLE headquarters for the two men to match wits. He insisted upon it as he took pleasure in sneaking out with his bodyguards, who'd been sworn to secrecy. It always caused a fuss back home, but no harm was ever done because of it.

The two men been at it for years and a friendly rivalry between them had developed. The Old Man had even been a guest at the Royal Wedding back in the day...

"Would you care for a game Mister Solo," Waverly flicked his bushy eyebrows. He was feeling lucky after winning this last match.

"Sir, I don't think I'd stand a chance against you, but what the heck," Napoleon smiled as he pulled up a chair and helped Waverly reset the board.

Solo was an excellent chess player as his partner could attest to that fact; Napoleon was after all a brilliant strategist...still, playing against Alexander Waverly was like doing battle with the wind.

As good as Napoleon was, the Old Man was better. He only hoped to be as adept and efficient as Waverly was at everything when the time came for him to fill those very big shoes.


End file.
